On the First Day of Christmas the Doctor Gave to Me
by YouMayKnowMeAsAngel
Summary: "Look at you, beaming away like you're Father Christmas!" "Who says I'm not? Red bicycle when you were twelve."- In which the Doctor (9-11) leaves presents for his companions, before they know him. This story promises fun, fluff, hilarity, plenty of feels, and lots of confusing time traveling stuff in every chapter. All in the spirit of Christmas, of course!
1. Rose

_"__Look at you, beaming away like you're Father Christmas!"_

_"__Who says I'm not? Red bicycle when you were twelve."_

_"…__What?"_

-ooOOoo-

This isn't the first time the Doctor has snuck into someone's flat, and he knows for a fact that it won't be the last. A person might think this to be a disturbing thought, but in the Doctor's opinion, the fact that human apartments are so easy to break into is even more disturbing. Honestly, all he had to do was sonic the bolts, guess the alarm code, and _bingo! _He's in. Simple, really.

However, sneaking through the dark apartment is proving to be a bit of a challenge. There had obviously been a bit of a party, unless Jackie Tyler enjoys having empty champaign bottles and streamers lying around on a regular basis. (The Doctor wouldn't be that surprised if she does.)

Speaking of Jackie, where is she?

That question is soon answered by a loud snore, which emanates from a room down the hall. The Doctor begins to pick his way through the rubbish on the floor, rethinking his decision to come here in the middle of the night, on Christmas Eve no less. Bad stuff always happens to him during Christmas, it's a bit of a tradition.

The Doctor discovers Jackie Tyler, sound asleep in her bed. Her hair's a mess, her mouth's hanging open, and she's more than a bit punch drunk. Other than that, she doesn't look half bad.

The Doctor keeps moving. He's not here to see Jackie. He's not here to see anybody, really. His job is simple, and should require no distractions.

However, he can't seem to help himself when he catches sight of the door on the end of the hall, the one with the large pink "R" plastered onto it. He finds the knob, twists it, and opens the door with a small squeak.

12 year old Roses' bedroom is quite different from the room that the Doctor had a glimpse at during the mannequin scare. For one thing, there's quite a lot of yellow and pink. It's rather scary.

The Doctor looks towards the bed, where he finds little Rose, fast asleep. There's a book lying open by her head, and she obviously passed out while reading it. She's curled up into herself in her red and green pajamas, her chest rising and falling in little puffs.

The Doctor feels a strange rush of affection whelm up inside him, and he smiles. "Rose Tyler…"

Only hours before, he had seen another version of Rose, a much younger one. Little baby Rose, in a church at a failure of a wedding, with Reapers flying around and snatching people up.

_"__Now Rose, you're not going to bring about the end of the world, are you?"_

And she hadn't, though it had been close.

With the death of her father and everything, Rose had been worn out at the end of the ordeal. The Doctor suggested that she sleep it off in one of the TARDIS' bedrooms. (And if her sleeping happens to fit perfectly with his little secret mission, then that isn't anybody's business but his own.)

"Well now Rose," the Doctor finds himself whispering, "I usually don't do this sort of thing. Just thought I'd let you know that." He sits on the edge of her bed, careful not to wake her. "House calls are so troublesome, especially when you're a Time Lord. You never really know when it's a good time to 'pop in'. Once, I was attempting to visit that American movie star, Cary Grant. Ended up interrupting him and his lover." He shrugs. "Everyone always suspected he was gay, and I can tell you on a first hand account that he — well, I'll tell you when you're older."

The Doctor ruffles her hair affectionately, standing up again. He sneaks out of the room, careful to close the door behind him. He doesn't want Jackie to think that some stranger has been sneaking into her daughter's bedroom at night. The woman might get jealous.

He mentally chides himself for that thought. Jackie has been a good mother, especially given the circumstances. Having their child run around with a mad man would drive any parent insane, a fact the Doctor has witnessed one too many times.

He makes his way to the living room, cursing under his breath when his toe bumps sharply against the corner of the coffee table. Then the tree fills his vision.

The tree is a Christmas tree, or it might have been at one point in time. It's barely a twig now. It's big, plastic, spray painted white, and having a lot of trouble standing upright in it's little stand. Baubles are hanging precariously off the branches, seconds from falling to the ground. When the Doctor checks the floor underneath the tree, he discovers that several have already taken the deadly plunge. The Christmas tree — if you can even call it that — is obviously borrowed from someone else. It makes sense, since Jackie and Rose only moved into this apartment last month.

The Doctor knew from his older Rose that after the death of her father, her mother had a hard time keeping up the payments for their house. The bills had been hard to pay when her dad was alive, but they had been nearly impossible once he had gone. Rose told him that when she was 12, they had to move into an apartment because the house was slowly running them dry. That had given the Doctor an idea.

He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a little red cube. He places it on the ground in front of the tree, amongst the tiny pile of presents. With a wave of his screwdriver, the cube stretches and pulls at itself, twisting into the shape of a gleaming red bicycle. The Doctor gives it a proud look, and picks a bow off one of the other presents to stick between the handle bars. It has a nice effect.

He pulls a pen and paper out of his pocket, and jots down a quick note for Rose to find in the morning.

_Welcome to the neighborhood, Rose Tyler._

_— __A Friend_

The Tyler's will likely think that one of the party guests left the bike. The Doctor is fine with them thinking that. After all, it's not as though he won't be meeting Rose eventually. (Well, he already knows Rose, but the younger version currently lying asleep in her bedroom has yet to meet him.)

He leaves Jackie a gift too, in the form of a pair of expensive looking earrings. They're actually a pair of transportation portals he miniaturized a while back, but what she doesn't know won't kill her. Probably.

As the Doctor turns to leave, he takes one last look at the apartment. It's messy, lonely, and feels extremely new, but it symbolizes something amazing. It symbolizes hope, hope for the Tyler's and their new future, a future that the Doctor knows for a fact to be utterly fantastic.

And so, the Doctor smiles. "Happy Christmas, Tyler's."

Of course, as soon as he's done saying that, the neighbor's dog starts to go absolutely bonkers. The Doctor hears shifting coming from Jackie's room, so he does what any respectable replacement Santa would do. He climbs out the nearest window, and disappears into the night, grinning like a mad man as he goes.

-ooOOoo-

A/N: If this chapter goes over well, (and I'm crossing my fingers here) I will be writing more. Please let me know if it's worth it!


	2. Mickey

The first time that the Doctor ran into Mickey Smith on Christmas Eve, it had been a complete accident. Unlike Rose, he hadn't planned on giving any sort of present.

-ooOOoo-

The Doctor is running through the streets of London in the middle of the night, something that has become a bit of a habit. He isn't doing it for sport, mind you, although running along these damp, dark streets is definitely invigorating. He's actually tracking a small piece of alien tech that had crash-landed on Earth hundreds of years ago. It's programmed to blend into its surroundings in a cameo mode, since it had come from a war ship.

It's also set to self destruct in exactly one hour. The explosion will wipe out half the country.

So, the Doctor has a bit of an agenda to keep to.

He would have done this sooner, perhaps fifty years ago while the piece of tech was still cooking, but it had sort of slipped his mind. With Rose becoming his new companion, he's had a lot to do. There were planets to find, places to see, alien races to save, flirting to commence, enemies to destroy…

Wait a second. One of those didn't fit.

He shakes his head as he runs, trying to get rid of those thoughts straight away. The Doctor will not think of Rose like that. She's under his care.

His screwdriver interrupts his confusing inner mantra by making that high pitched whirring noise it makes when it's scanning something. The Doctor holds it up in triumph, brandishing it in the air with a giant grin. He finds the direction in which the whirring noise is the loudest, and takes off.

Rose is asleep in the TARDIS at the moment. She's had a busy day, what with the emperor of the Codiak National Empire proposing to her, and then threatening to eat her. The Doctor figured that he would be able to find the alien tech, and then make it back to the TARDIS before she noticed. Of course, he hadn't expected that the TARDIS would land at the bottom of the Thames. He really should start checking the monitor more often.

And then came the problem of actually _finding_ the piece of bloody tech. He's been led through yards, parks, alleys, restaurants, stores, waiting rooms, and way too many rose bushes. (He still had thorns poking him in unmentionable places.) The screwdriver has led the Doctor on a wild race through London, landing him in strange places along the way. So, he isn't all that surprised when the whirring noise leads him to a small apartment in a slightly shady neighborhood.

According to his screwdriver, the piece of tech is inside this apartment. The Doctor stares at the door. It's not that impressive, really. It could use some paint. He sets about sonic-ing the lock, trying to ignore the whine of sirens in the distance. Until they get closer, that is.

He knows what this will look like. Unfamiliar man in a leather jacket, pointing a glowing stick at a door knob; he would be noticed for sure. Since the Doctor doesn't have the time to deal with human law enforcement, he sets his screwdriver to a higher setting and properly damages the door lock. He turns the knob quickly and shoves his shoulder against the door, but it won't budge. The sirens are getting closer. He tries again with the same result. The door's old, and has become too big for its frame. It's being stubborn.

The third time he tries involves a rather frantic slamming against the door, since he can now see the flash of police car lights down the street. As he does this, the door apparently decides to be a complete and utter tosser, and opens easily underneath his entire body weight. The Doctor goes crashing into the apartment, having enough sense at the last minute to shift slightly so he won't land on his shoulder. Instead, he lands on his stomach with a graceful, "Oof!"

When he opens his eyes, the Doctor discovers a small pair of feet tucked into blue footsie pajamas. He stares cross-eyed at the wiggling toes for a moment before realizing that someone is actually standing in front of him. He raises his gaze.

There's a small child with dark skin and giant brown eyes staring down at him, his right hand gripping a sad looking teddy bear, and his left hand gripping the gaping door. The boy must have heard the Doctor outside, and opened the door just as he shoved his shoulder against it.

The Doctor stares.

The boy sniffs.

The sirens grow closer.

The Doctor jumps to his feet and whirls around, slamming the door shut before the police can see that it's open. He sonics the lock for good measure. With his ear pressed against the wooden surface of the door, he listens to the police car as it drives by. Once it's gone, he lets out a small sigh of relief.

Someone coughs behind him.

The Doctor's face falls, and he lets his head fall against the door. Right. There's a little boy in the house. He will probably start screaming any second now.

"Are you Father Christmas?"

Well. That's new.

The Doctor turns around slowly, surveying the boy standing in front of him. The child looks up at him, clutching the teddy bear close to his side.

The Doctor frowns at the boy. Oh well, if it will move things along… "Yes. I'm Father Christmas, and you're out of bed. Now off you go, back to sleep with you." He tries to shuffle the kid away, but he won't budge.

He glares up at the Doctor. "No, you're not."

"Not what?"

"Father Christmas. You're not him."

For some reason, the Doctor finds this insulting. Maybe it's the way the kid says it, as if he knows better than a superiorly intelligent Time Lord.

The Doctor sneers. "What do you mean I'm not him? Why can't I be Father Christmas?"

The boy rolls his eyes. "Because Father Christmas is _jolly_, stupid. You're not jolly."

_What?!_

"I'm the jolliest person in the universe," the Doctor snarls in the boy's face. "And if you don't get out of my jolly way, I will be forced to throw you outside to deal with my jolly reindeer. They're hungry. Haven't eaten in weeks."

The boy's eyes widen. The Doctor feels a little guilty, but he does have a mission to complete, and there's no time for stubborn human children.

He pushes past the boy and walks fully into the flat. It's small, but cozy, and has that strange old lady smell that most flats like this have. He holds his screwdriver aloft, using it to pinpoint the location of the alien tech. Apparently, it's the glass window behind the small Christmas tree.

"What's that thing?" a curious voice asks, probably talking about the screwdriver.

The Doctor rolls his eyes to the heavens. "It's not a _thing_, it's an instrument."

"Oh…So it plays music?"

"What? No! It's a _scientific _instrument. What are they teaching you in school?" the Doctor snaps.

"But it's making noise," the boy protests, walking forward to get a better look.

The Doctor attempts to ignore him, and starts maneuvering the tree out of the way. "It's a sonic screwdriver."

"It doesn't look like a screwdriver."

"Well neither do you, but I wasn't going to mention it."

The kid stares at him. The Doctor stares back for a moment, then rolls his eyes again. Rose would have laughed.

"Are you a burglar?" the boy suddenly exclaims, his eyes widening. "Is that why you're moving our christmas tree? Are you going to steal it?"

The Doctor snorts. "Please. As if I would find any use for that twig."

The boy visibly relaxes. "Good. Gran doesn't like burglars."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. Gran. So that's why the apartment smells like old lady.

There's something tickling the back of his neck, which worries him. The sensation usually means that he's missing something big, something _huge_, and that something is usually standing right in front of him. It's frustrating. He can't concentrate on the imaginary tick of the clock that's counting down the seconds until the alien tech blows up London.

This is why he has his companions. They're helpful in their own bumbling way, and they usually have the habit of pointing out the obvious for him, which is incredibly useful (if a bit annoying at times). The Doctor would bet his right hand that Rose would have pointed out the hugely obvious thing by now and-

Wait a second. Rose.

Doesn't Rose have a boyfriend? An annoying, pestering young man with large eyes and a meddling personality?

He stares the little boy down, crouching in front of him. "It's Christmas Eve, yeah?"

The kid stares at him like he's a loony. "Yeah."

"And the year's 1991, yeah?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't you know this?"

"Not necessarily. Tell me, how old are you?"

The boy grins, puffs out his chest a bit. "I'll be eight in a month."

"So, seven."

The boy frowns. "Well yeah, but I'll-"

"-Be eight in a month, and nine in a year. In regards to a human's personal age, only the present truly matters. Now, your name."

The boy stares at him for a moment longer before whispering "Mikey."

The Doctor takes in a deep breath. Alright. This doesn't necessarily mean anything. Plenty of boys the same age as Rose's boyfriend are named Mikey. Besides, what are the chances that the Doctor was unknowingly led to the apartment of someone he knows in the future?

Actually, now that he thinks about it, the chances of that happening are pretty high. His life is full of strange reunions and meetings. It's almost as though he has a talent for finding people at the wrong time and place.

So, the Doctor takes another deep breath, and asks Mikey a question.

"Mikey Smith?"

Mikey's eyebrows shoot up high in the air, and the Doctor has his answer.

"How'd you know my last name?" Mikey squeaks.

"Father Christmas is supposed to know this stuff," he deadpans. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a window to scan." He moves Mikey to one side and marches purposefully over to the window.

"Are you going to scan it with your music thingy?"

"_Scientific instrument._"

"Scientific instrument," Mikey corrects.

The Doctor sighs, noticing the different frequencies that the window is giving off. "Yes, I'm scanning it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a mad man who crashes into people's houses to scan their windows," he snaps. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

The boy crosses his arms. "I was, but then you woke me up."

The Doctor sighs again, and turns to face the child. "It would really be in your best interest if you would go back to sleep now, Rickey."

"_Mikey_."

"Whatever."

Mikey pouts, and holds his teddy bear close. "I don't wanna' go to bed. What's wrong with our window?"

The Doctor smirks. "Nothing's wrong with it, and it's not a window. It's just disguised as one." He turns to face said window. "And if I do _this_," He points his screwdriver, which starts to buzz. "I should be able to fix it."

The window starts to smoke and make odd beeping noises.

"Is it fixed now?" Mikey asks.

"…No."

-ooOOoo-

A half hour and several swear words later, the window is back to normal with mere seconds to spare. The Doctor wipes away the sweat on his brow, and glances towards Mikey. The boy had fallen quiet a while ago.

The Doctor finds him curled up in one of the living room's armchairs, drooling on his poor teddy bear.

"Why are they always unconscious when I'm about to give my victory speech?" the Doctor grumbles.

Now that the threat of the exploding alien tech is gone, he has time to think through the whole Mikey situation. The Doctor doesn't really know Mikey that well. They've only met a couple times, and while the boy had been resourceful during the Slitheen invasion, he had turned down the offer of coming along with Rose in the TARDIS.

The Doctor doesn't know what to think of him. Yet.

Oh well. Better take care of the present situation. Since Mikey never showed any signs of meeting the Doctor before, it's safe to assume that he doesn't remember this encounter. The Doctor points his screwdriver at Mikey's sleeping head, and changes it's setting to a frequency that will disrupt certain parts of his EEG brain waves.

When Mikey wakes, he will remember his meeting with a strange man in his living room as nothing more than a bizarre, fuzzy dream.

The Doctor gives his screwdriver a glare as he pockets it. "And yet, you don't work on wood."

He walks out of the flat as quiet as a mouse.

(And if he happens to find a blanket to cover Mikey with as he sleeps, well, nobody can prove it happened.)

-ooOOoo-

The next time that the Doctor runs into Mikey Smith on Christmas Eve, he's got a new face, and the visit's purposeful.

Well, it's not so much Christmas Eve as it is New Year's Eve, but he's close enough. (Bloody TARDIS and it's bloody display screens. The numbers get mixed around, which usually means that he has to deal with a multitude of sarcastic comments from Donna when he inavoidably ends up in the wrong time.)

He glances back at his TARDIS, which he has left in a corner alley. It's close enough to his final destination anyways.

According to his information (Facebook), Mikey and Rose met at a party around Christmas time. Whether it was actually on Christmas or on New Year's was hard to tell, but as long as he's here, he might as well check.

The Doctor shoves his hands into his coat pockets and walks off into the night. He thinks back to the last time he saw Mikey, running off with Martha Jones and Jack Harkness. It was one of the many goodbyes he had to make that day.

When he finally makes it to the party, it's three minutes till midnight and he hasn't seen an inch of either Rose nor Mickey. He somehow made it into the party through the use of a physic paper and a banana (ha ha Jack), and it was apparently all for nothing.

Nope. Wait a second. There he is.

Mickey is standing by the mantle, chatting up some brunette with glasses who does look rather nice but is not who the Doctor wants Mickey to be chatting up at the moment. And Rose is…oh. Chatting up some bloke by a window. Lovely.

And oh, God it hurts to see them again. It really, really hurts. The kind of pain that one doesn't really want to think about and is nearly impossible to ignore because it is a throbbing ache that seeps through the entire body and dear Lord he should really stop thinking about analogies for loneliness.

The Doctor shakes himself off, makes sure that his New Year's Eve party glasses are covering most of his face, and makes his way towards Mickey. He has no idea what he's going to do, which isn't that much of a problem since the feeling is rather familiar to him by now. He should probably fix that at some point.

The answer comes to him when the party guests start counting down and pairing off. He imagines a little light bulb appearing above his head. A New Year's Eve kiss. Alright then. Here we go.

He rushes over to Mickey (the girl with the glasses has moved away thankfully), sweeps by him, and grabs his drink as he passes. Mickey lets out a yelp of surprise, and gives into the pursuit, as expected. At this point it's only a matter of getting him between Rose and that guy who is getting much to close for comfort, aaaannnnndddd there!

Mikey crashes into Rose in a truly romantic, buffoony fashion, right as the party goers call out, "5…"

The Doctor gets himself to a safe distance and watches.

"4…"

Mickey looks down at Rose as he apologizes, and freezes when he realizes that he is looking into the face of a truly gorgeous woman.

"3…"

Rose looks back up at him, and honestly doesn't seem that bothered at being in the arms of a handsome idiot.

"2…"

The decision is being made. The Doctor can practically see the cogs turning.

"1! Happy New Year!"

And Mickey swoops in for the kiss. And…it's a rather long one, thanks to Rose. The Doctor feels a sharp pain in his gut when he sees this, but he pushes it off to the side. This was meant to happen. He was told this a tip, and he doesn't usually follow tips, but he…

No. No more figuring things out. This happened. He helped it happen. Mikey had to meet Rose or the entire universe would crumble. Mikey wouldn't be there to save it, and Rose wouldn't be in several situations in order to save it again. Typical time traveling garbage.

The Doctor tears his eyes away from Rose and studies Mikey. A lot has changed from that little boy he meant in a quiet apartment on Christmas Eve, all those years ago. Everything's different now, because he knows things. He knows that Mickey loves his grandmother more than anything else in the world, he knows that Mickey cares about Rose and her mother enough to do what is right, and he knows that Mickey is a secret genius who was hiding all this time under a frightened nerve. Mickey is not something to be ignored, or forgotten.

So the Doctor made sure, on this day at least, that Mickey Smith was not forgotten.

-ooOOoo-

A/N: Alright then! I have decided to continue to do this, because I'm a little empty pillow case who needs her fluff. (What's truly funny is the fact that I think I'm funny. Ha.) Again, I need reassurance with this. Is it good? Is it too fluffy? Too feelsy? Did I use a stupid adjective such as promiscuous? COMFORT ME!


	3. Donna

A/N: Ok ok, I know that technically I should be doing Jack Harkness since he's been there for awhile, but I felt like doing Donna so A BOO BOP BA BOOP here we go.

-ooOOoo-

It's Christmas, and all Wilfred Mott can think about is how he isn't allowed to eat anything he wants to.

"Dad, don't think I don't know you've been sneaking cookies from the bowl in the living room. I've done a head count, and there's three missing," his daughter scolds him, wagging her finger.

"Oh, come on Sylvia! It's Christmas!" he whines.

"Yes, and that jumper you're wearing is bursting at the seams."

Wilfred pouts in his armchair, slumping down into a proper angry position. If he wants to eat Christmas cookies, then he is going to eat Christmas cookies. Sylvia has no control over him. So, he steals another while she's busy putting the ham on the table. He chews his sugary treat in defiance and happiness, listening to the cheerful music coming out of the radio.

Sylvia marches back into the room, and Wilfred is forced to scarf the rest of the cookie before she sees. Luckily, she's more interested in the pile of presents under the tree.

"Alright, so when they get here we're going to pass out the gifts, but _not open them_ until after brunch, is that right Dad?"

Wilfred rolls his eyes. "Yes yes, that's right. No fun until we've eaten."

She whacks his knee in admonishment. "Stop it. I won't have any sarcasm on Christmas."

"You won't have any cheerfulness either," he mutters to himself as she walks away.

"I heard that!"

Thankfully, the doorbell rings. Wilfred jumps to his feet as if he's ten years younger and doesn't have a bad knee that acts up when it's cold out. He rushes to the door like an excited child, and pulls it open to smile into the face of his granddaughter.

"Happy Christmas! Do you have room at the table for us?" Donna greets him with a grin.

"Of course we do! Oh, come here you!" He pulls her into a proper hug, ignoring her squeak of protest as he squishes the presents she brought between them.

He allows her to escape after he's had his fill, and holds her away from him so that he can get a good look at her. Wilfred notices several things. She seems to hold herself higher, with more pride and self assurance than he's seen in years. Donna looks happy, content.

Wilfred believes it has a lot to do with the man standing beside her.

"Happy Christmas!" he shouts in Donna's husband's face before enveloping him in a yet another huge hug.

The poor man lets out a little grunt of surprise. "Uh, happy Christmas Mr. Mott!"

"Oh, please, you can call me Granddad!" he says cheerfully, patting him on the back.

The man smiles, and walks into the house to greet Sylvia.

Donna looks at Wilfred, her mouth twitching in amusement. "You've forgotten his name, haven't you?"

"Yup. It doesn't matter though."

"Oh really? How come?"

"Because your mother remembers, and she's the one who wrote the Christmas cards."

Donna snickers and throws her arm around Wilfred's shoulders. They walk into the house together, and Wilfred can't help but think that everything is right with the world.

Well, almost everything. He's expecting a third guest.

Once Donna is distracted by her mother and the latest gossip of the town, Wilfred sneaks back outside. He shuts the door behind him, steps off the front porch, and looks up and down the street for a familiar blue box.

He doesn't find it.

Wilfred sighs, and watches his breath curl through the air. He supposes it's for the best. After all, if _he_ did show up, it would run the risk of Donna remembering. Still, it would have been nice to…Wilfred doesn't know what exactly, but seeing the Doctor again would have made his Christmas.

He turns around to go back into the house, and is promptly run over by a fumbling man with flailing limbs. The man stops him from hitting the pavement, but Wilfred still feels as though he's been hit by a truck.

"Oi! Watch it!" he exclaims as the man helps him get his footing back.

"Sorry about that! Alright, here we go," the man says, brushing off Wilfred's sweater.

Wilfred stares at the man in front of him, and the first thing he thinks is, _Now that's_ _a chin!_

The man is tall and extremely gangly, with long limbs that he seems to have no control over. His hair is swept back away from his face, but it's still messed about haphazardly. He's wearing a tweed suit jacket, a button down shirt, and a bright red bow tie.

The strange man beams at him. "I'm really sorry about that, I'm in a bit of a rush."

"Right, well, you ought to be more careful," Wilfred gruffs out.

"Yes, yes I ought to be." The man can't seem to stop smiling at him, his eyes tracking over Wilfred's face eagerly. Something about him reminds Wilfred of a child. That is, if it weren't for his eyes. The man has old, soulful eyes, eyes that Wilfred recognizes from his time as a soldier. This man has seen battle, Wilfred's sure of it.

"Well, it's Christmas, so I have to be forgiving," Wilfred says after a moment of silence.

"Of course." The man nods. He looks over Wilfred's shoulder at the house. "I suppose you got a party to get back to, yeah?"

Wilfred nods. "That I do."

"Well, tell them all hi from me. And merry Christmas." The man's expression turns sad for a moment. "Wish them all well for me."

Wilfred blinks several times in surprise. "I…will."

The man's expression snaps back to childish joy again. "Good! And a very merry Christmas to you too, Wilfred Mott!" And with that, the man kisses him on the cheek, pats him on the shoulder, gives him one last soul searching look, and saunters off.

Wilfred stands in shock for a moment before calling after the man. "Wait! How did you know my name?"

But, it's too late. He's gone. Wilfred frowns after him, pondering something. Could it have been…?

No, no it couldn't have. There's no way.

Yet, the Doctor _had_ mentioned something about changing faces, regeneration, or radiation, or desecration.

No. It wasn't him. Wilfred's just being sentimental. He chuckles at himself, and walks back into the house. He's immediately greeted with the chaos that usually goes on when Donna and her mother are in the same room. The pestering, the whining, the nagging, the shouting, the laughing, and the occasional shriek.

Donna's husband (Wilfred really needs to remember his name, he thinks it might start with a "P") sits off to one side, looking slightly dazed. Wilfred gives him a sympathetic wince, and mouths, _You'll get used to it._

The poor man's eyes widen in fear, as if he's just realizing that this is something he'll have to get used to.

Wilfred goes back to his old armchair and settles down into it. He debates taking another cookie, and then decides against it. He turns to study the presents under the tree, and notices something new. There are three small packages at the top of the pile, and something about them seems familiar.

It takes Wilfred a moment to realize that they are bound up in TARDIS blue wrapping paper.

Wilfred stares at the presents for a moment, his mind blanking. When he comes back to himself, he takes a quick stock of the other presents to make sure. Sylvia didn't buy any blue wrapping paper this year, and Wilfred thinks he would remember wrapping presents in that shade. Donna's presents are wrapped in gold and silver, and so are her husband's gifts.

Wilfred reaches out for the box nearest to him, and holds it up close to his face. There's a tiny card attached to it. He opens it up.

_To Donna,_

_The very best of Christmas wishes!_

_From,_

_An old forgotten friend_

Wilfred's breath catches in his throat. _He had come…_

"Dad, I _told _you that we're going to open the presents after brunch-"

"Sylvia, come over here please. Quickly."

There must be something in the way that he says it, because Sylvia snaps her mouth closed and hurries over. Wilfred peers around her to make sure that Donna and her husband are distracting each other in the dining room.

He turns to Sylvia, holding up the gift. "Look."

He watches as she reads it, her face growing pale. "But…that's…he can't have. No, I didn't see him come inside or anything."

"He's a Time Lord. He can do things without people noticing," Wilfred says in a hushed tone.

"But, didn't he say that he was leaving? That he was going to…"

Wilfred nods. "Yes. But he came back."

The both turn to look at Donna. She's laughing at something her husband said. Wilfred's heart almost breaks, because he knows about how lonely Donna can be sometimes. She knows that something is missing, but she just can't remember what it is.

"Do you think it's safe to give this to her?" Sylvia whispers. "What if she starts to remember?"

"The Doctor seems to think it's safe, and that's good enough for me," Wilfred says with a nod.

Sylvia looks at the present pile. "There are two more." She picks them up, looks at the cards, and hands one to Wilfred. "This one's for you.

Wilfred's hand shakes as he takes it from her and opens up the card.

_To Wilfred,_

_Thank you for looking after her. Please continue to do so._

_Also, I figured this might come in handy during those wonderful nights spent star-gazing._

_From,_

_A fellow soldier_

Wilfred tears open the gift, ignoring the glare that Sylvia gives him. It's another note, telling him exactly where he'll find his brand new telescope. (Up on the hill right next to his old one.) He grins from ear to ear, his vision fogging up with happy tears.

Sylvia lets out a little gasp, and Wilfred turns to find that she's opened her present too. She holds up a pair of beautiful ruby earrings

"They look like they belong to a queen!" she exclaims.

"They probably do," Wilfred mutters, because he knows the Doctor.

"What are you two doing in here? I thought we were going to have brunch!" Donna walks into the room, and takes in the sight of them holding up their presents. "Weren't we going to wait to do that?"

"An old friend dropped these off, and we decided that we better open them before brunch," Wilfred says, thinking quickly.

"Yes, you got one too!" Sylvia chimes in. She passes Donna's box to her.

Donna reads the card, and smiles in confusion. "They didn't sign a name. It just says, "From an old, forgotten friend'." She looks up at the two of them. "Who's it from?"

Wilfred and Sylvia remain quiet, both of them not knowing what to say.

Donna raises an eyebrow. "Well then, if you two don't want to tell me, that's fine with me." She opens the gift and pulls out two tickets and a pamphlet. She stares at the items in her hand for a moment, before letting out a joyful shout. "Oh my _God_!"

"What is it?" Sylvia and Wilfred both ask at once.

Donna's husband rushes into the room. "What? What just happened? _Did_ something happen?"

"Phil! Someone just gave us tickets to an around the world cruise!" Donna exclaims.

_Ah, so that's his name, _Wilfred thinks to himself.

Phil blinks in shock. "What?"

"Look at this!" Donna waves the pamphlet in front of his face, and the two of them look it over with increasing excitement.

Sylvia shares a look with Wilfred. Of _course _the Doctor gave them cruise tickets. Donna loves traveling, after all.

Donna gasps. "Oo, look! One of the stops is Pompeii! I've always wanted to see Pompeii!"

Wilfred rolls his eyes at that one.

His granddaughter looks up at him and her mother, her eyes wide. "But, who sent this? It must've cost a fortune."

Sylvia blinks twice, before stuttering, "Just an old friend. It says so on the paper."

"Yes, I can read," Donna snarks. "But who sent it? There's no name."

Silence. Everyone stares at everyone.

And of course, it's up to Wilfred to save the day. "A friend of mine once did something very nice for this family. He goes around doing stuff like that, saving people. He's a hero, but he doesn't like telling people his name. He doesn't want to be remembered."

Donna frowns. "He…doesn't want to be remembered?"

Wilfred nods. "He's strange like that."

Donna thinks about it for a moment, and Wilfred and Sylvia hold their breaths. Finally, she shrugs, and turns back to talking over the pamphlet with Phil.

-ooOOoo-

Wilfred finally gets a chance to open up his new telescope. It's dark out, and he can see every star in the sky. (There's a special lever that shows him projected images of different galaxies, and a blinking light that warns him when something special is happening, like a planet alignment.) He's busy adjusting the lens when he hears footsteps behind him.

"Having fun with your toy, I see," Donna teases.

Wilfred chuckles, not turning his attention away for a second. "It's Christmas, I have a right."

Donna hums in agreement, and then is silent. She's quiet for so long that Wilfred looks up at her. She's standing with her arms folded across her chest for warmth, staring up at the night sky with her head tilted to one side.

Her eyes are also filled with tears.

"Donna…are you crying?" Wilfred asks tentatively.

Donna blinks several times in surprise, sniffs, then wipes at her eyes. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Is everything alright?"

"Of course it is. Everything's lovely."

"Then, why are you crying?"

Donna looks so painfully confused that it breaks Wilfred's heart. "I don't know."

He sighs, gets up, and wraps her in a hug. "It's alright. Everything's fine."

His granddaughter lets out a little sob. "I feel like something's missing, but I don't…"

"It's fine, I understand." Wilfred shushes her quietly.

Donna laughs a little, clutching at him. "Look at me, all weepy at Christmas. I must be getting old."

Wilfred forces himself to smile through his own tears, looking up at the star filled sky as he hugs Donna close to him. "It's not the age that makes you sad, Donna. It's the memories."

And for a moment, for one blessedly scary moment, Donna seems to remember. She nods her head a little, tilting it up to the sky with a smile. Then, right when Wilfred starts getting fearful, she giggles. "Right, Granddad. Try to keep the sentimental mush to a medium."

He huffs. "Of course."

"Merry Christmas."

"…Merry Christmas."

And they both stand there like idiots. They hug each other as they search the sky, one looking for something she can't remember, and the other looking for an old friend.

And somewhere galaxies away, in a blue box that's whizzing through space, another man smiles to himself, his own two hearts heavy with memories.

-ooOOoo-

A/N: I hope that was believable enough. I don't know what Donna's husband's name is, and there was literally nothing about it online. And I did _extensive_ research. (By research, I mean I went on Dr. Who Wiki and searched for about two minutes.) Oh, and before I forget, EVERYONE HAVE SO MANY HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

UPDATE: I have been reliably informed by Hediru that Donna's husband's name is Shaun Temple. While I am grateful for that information, I'm going to be a butt and not change it. Why? 'Cuz I like the name Phil. It has a nice ring to it.

God. I'm despicable.


End file.
